


I know it's fine

by CarmillaCarmine



Series: First Kiss (fix-it) Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: When John meets Sherlock for the first time, his life is flipped upside down. He doesn't fall in love. He runs.A ficlet and comic collaboration between CarmillaCarmine andThinkanddoodleA standalone fic - part of a fix-it "First Kiss" series.





	I know it's fine

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Sé que está bien](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19434709) by [randomfandoms7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomfandoms7/pseuds/randomfandoms7)



“I’m not his date!” John tried not to panic when everyone ignored his blatant denial. The owner of the restaurant even brought a candle to make it more romantic. John gave up trying and went back to the conversation with his new friend. 

Sherlock only glanced at him, then continued looking through the window behind John. They were on the lookout for a murderer. If this was really a date, it would be quite a story to tell. 

“You don’t have a girlfriend, then?” He took a breath and lowered his eyes, not wanting Sherlock to deduce anything. Even a fast flick of Sherlock’s eyes at him made John feel that the man could see into his soul and read all his thoughts. 

“Girlfriend? No, not really my area.” Sherlock said in a bored voice. 

“Hmmm” John looked at Sherlock’s profile, the chiselled jaw, the stoic expression as he looked through the window, but not at John. “Oh, right.” There was still a chance Sherlock would be interested in him. He must have misjudged his new friend, but he had to know for sure. “Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way.” John said casually, but he waited for the response with his breath held in his lungs. Sherlock looked at him. John couldn’t read his expression precisely but he was mildly surprised. 

“I know it’s fine.” 

They looked at one another and John felt his heart testing the confines of his ribcage as it beat thunderously. Sherlock knew John was interested. There was still hope that this gorgeous genius might reciprocate, if only he was unattached. 

“So you’ve got a boyfriend then?” John aimed for casual nonchalance. 

“No.” Sherlock answered before John could finish the sentence. 

“Right okay.” 

John wanted to scream. In fact he did, but on the inside. A great elongated ‘Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh yessssss!’ rattled in his head as his face remained calm. Or as calm as he could muster. He realised he was smiling slightly and he licked his lips to cover the gesture. He might have made it worse though, because now Sherlock was looking at him with slightly furrowed brows which seemed quite alarming. “You’re unattached. Just like me. Fine.” John cleared his throat. He hadn’t been this nervous since uni days. “Good.” It was a date after all. A cosy Italian place, a candle, and the fact and Sherlock never ever denied that John came as his date. More internal screaming was about to happen when Sherlock started talking again. John shoved some delicious pasta into his mouth. 

“John, um... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered, I’m really not looking for any...” Sherlock gave him an apologetic look. 

John felt like a complete idiot and strived to save face. 

“No, I’m... not asking. No.” The food was halfway down his throat and John was hoping he wouldn't start coughing from the overwhelming feelings of embarrassment. “I’m just saying, it’s all fine.” 

“Good. Thank you.” Sherlock turned towards the window again. 

The lights from the streetlamps illuminated his face but the candlelight added a soft glow to his cheekbones. John sighed, deciding that looking at this face every day while sharing a flat was better than not being near the enigmatic man at all. 

Then it all happened. 

They ran out of the restaurant, after the presumed killer. John followed Sherlock out, not looking back, not realising what was about to happen. All John registered was a swish of coat several feet in front of him and he followed it. 

“Come on John! We’re losing him.” 

John jumped from the roof of one building and onto the next, still following, energized by the chase, the pace, the excitement. 

Wrong cab, but the excitement didn’t dwindle. 

They ran towards Baker Street and John felt like a teenager again. He wasn’t falling, this was so much different. Can you run in love? Yes, that definitely seemed like a possibility. 

“That was ridiculous.” John was still panting from the exertion when they entered 221B. “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.” 

“And you invaded Afghanistan.” Sherlock noted with amusement. 

John couldn’t stifle a fit of giggles that overtook him and he revelled in the sound of a low chuckle next to him. The sound was both lovely and incredibly sexy. 

John didn’t think, he just acted. His body told him to move, to turn towards the beautiful sound and the dazzling man. Within seconds, John’s hands were cupping Sherlock’s face as he stood on tiptoe to link their lips together. Sherlock’s lips were warm and full when John captured them in a soft kiss. When Sherlock reciprocated, John’s tongue snaked out over the welcoming lips until it slid inside. A deep rumbling moan came from the taller man, encouraging John to deepen the kiss, exploring more, feeling the effects of the closeness low in his abdomen. John was completely immersed in the kiss, pouring his need into it. The sensual heat of the moment spread throughout John’s body. He felt as if he was standing on Tower Bridge on New Year’s Eve and fireworks were shooting above his head in all the colours of the rainbow. 

Fireworks had nothing on the way Sherlock Holmes kissed. 

John moaned, feeling his trousers getting tight in front when he noticed that even though Sherlock was kissing him back, the man kept his hands at his sides. 

“I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry.” John broke the kiss. Backing away a step, he straightened Sherlock’s shirt, his hands lingering a second too long before he lifted them in surrender. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” 

“No. Umm.” Sherlock was failing to hide the smirk on his face and John was holding back his own by a thread. “It’s fine.” 

“It’s not. I.... fuck! I don’t want to ruin this. Because I actually... I can’t believe I’m saying this, I just met you...” John looked up to the perfect kiss-swollen lips and then further up to Sherlock's gleaming eyes. “...I actually like you.” John sighed. “So this is a really bad idea.” 

“I have a better one then.” Sherlock’s smile grew wide before he yelled. “Mrs. Hudson! Dr Watson will take the room upstairs!” He turned to John and said more quietly, his smile wicked. “But you can visit mine first, and see whether you like it more.” 

“You’re assuming too much.” John narrowed his eyes, attempting a suave expression, but his face betrayed his eagerness. 

“I never do that. I deduce. And I proved my point.” 

“What point?” 

“You.” Sherlock smiled. “Open the door and see for yourself.” 

John frowned when at that moment a knock sounded at the door. The owner of the restaurant was on the front step when John opened it. 

“Sherlock texted me. He said you forgot this.” His face was full of amusement as he handed John his cane. John felt the heat in his cheeks at the amazement, the joy, and the absolute impossibility of what had just happened. 

He glanced back at his friend who was grinning smugly still inside the foyer. John’s therapist couldn't help him heal his apparently true psychosomatic limp; then Sherlock appeared in his life and within hours managed to do that and more. He gave him an adventure, a new friend, and had clearly found him a home, as well. 

“Er, thank you. Thank you.” John said to Angelo who gave him a knowing look as if he could see the remnants of the metaphorical fireworks that flew between him and Sherlock still scattered around him – on his face, his jumper... 

After closing the door, John followed Sherlock upstairs. That was the day when he first experienced his favourite thing about coming home. When they returned to Baker street every evening, John had the opportunity to admire the tight arse of his new flatmate as it sauntered in front of him when they climbed the stairs. 

That same week, they had a candlelit dinner and when Angelo said: 

“For you and your date.” John smiled and politely thanked the man. John’s hand hadn’t shaken when he had shot the cabbie to save his friend, and it didn’t shake when he took Sherlock’s hand into his own on top of the table. 

John never once slept in the bedroom upstairs. 


End file.
